Hermione Granger and the Sorcerer's Stone
by WitchBook31
Summary: Hermione Granger's story of her first year at Hogwarts in her point of view. Please read and comment!
1. Bookworm and Bullies

This is Hermione's point of view in the Harry Potter books. I tried to keep her in character, but I have a feeling I messed up a bit. And, if I made any mistakes involving the grammar or even something to do with the HP books, I apologize. I really hope you like it, though to warn you, I easily give up on stories. But I happen to like this one, so hopefully I can try and continue.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series, come on, really. J.K Rowling does because she's brilliant!

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Chapter One

_Bookworm and Bullies_

Morning light shone through the open window, a small breeze blowing in the white curtains. Birds were fluttering by, chirping to each other in greeting while dogs could be heard howling down the street. Inside the house, pictures stood on the dark, wooden table stands, each showing a bushy haired girl with large front teeth, getting older and older as the years went by. Fresh orange juice and tea were laying on the kitchen counter, while marmalade was spread all over thin, burnt toast. The smell seemed to wade under the closed door and into the room of a eleven year old girl, Hermione Granger.

She woke up with a start, rubbing her sleepy eyes while swinging her legs to the edge of the bed. She blearily stared around the room, trying to get a hold of her surroundings. A small table covered in thick books was on the left side of her tall dresser, and there was a white shelf by the door that held all of her possessions. It was the same as always- neat and organized, clean and dusted. Her eyes searched for a clock.

She peered at the small table, but the books were in front of what should have shown a few red numbers that would've told her the correct time. Hermione prepared for the worse; she could be late for school. Not wasting any time, she dashed around her room, stuffing socks on her tiny feet, slipping a blue shirt through her head, and sliding into her long, brown skirt that covered her ankles. Then she grabbed as many books that she could and tore downstairs. It was by the time she reached the kitchen did she remember that she should have checked the clock when she had the chance.

"Mum!" called Hermione, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I'm not late, am I? Goodness knows if I am. I will _never _forgive myself. Miss. Smith said that she was very proud of me last week and that I was _such_ a hark worker, and if I'm late, well, I honestly hope not, but..."

"Calm down, honey," said her Mother, smiling. "You have all the time in the world at your doorstep, school doesn't start in another two hours. Though, I'm glad to see you're up now. Did that dog wake you?"

"No, I don't think so," answered Hermione. "Can I have toast, please?"

"Sure, honey." Her mother walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a few slices of bread. "I'd give you the ones I just made, but I overdid them a little too long. I was busy reading that new book you gave me for my birthday and got a little distracted."

Hermione took a seat, taking a sip of orange juice. "Oh so I take it that you like it, then? That's really good, because it took me _hours _to find the right one, and I wasn't sure you'd be interested. But I found one in the end. Do you think I can take a look after you're done with it? It did seem quite fascinating, maybe I should have gotten a copy."

"No problem, dear." Her mother buttered the slice and laid it down on a plate. "Oh and your Father said to have a good day at school, he left early for work this morning. He nearly forgot about that appointment he scheduled..." She shook her head. "I told him over and over to write it in the planner I got for him a few months ago. It's a good thing that _I _did instead."

"What about you?" asked Hermione, dipping a piece of toast in the now warm tea. "Don't you have to go to work at the Dentists'?"

"Not quite yet," said her mother, "I'm going after I drop you off at school. Napkin?"

"Hm? Oh no thank you." Hermione hastily wiped at her chin. "You _do_ know that I can walk to school, right Mum? I've done it before."

"Not after what happened last time."

"Nothing happened then!"

But Hermione knew that something did indeed happen. Usually, she was the one to answer all the questions in class. She was the one who did all her homework on time. Not once in her life had she ever gotten a detention. And for some reason, that made her the pure target of a bunch of kids who, she figured, will probably go nowhere in life. They teased and taunted her. They made fun of her hair, and imitated chipmunks whenever she was around. Sometimes it made her cry, not that she'd say so.

But then one day, when she was on her way to school by herself, they were waiting by the entrance. They crowded her and formed a circle, and she knew she couldn't stand up to all of them. The only thing she could do was say that she was going to tell the teacher. Hermione remembered their low, chuckles, lodged deep in their thick throats. Then they took her stuff, took her books, ripped some of them, then threw the rest into the trash. But that didn't stop her from being afraid of going to school. After all, they've been more quiet after the detentions they got.

"Okay then," resigned Hermione. "You can drive me. I just didn't want you to be late, that's all."

"That's very sweet of you, dear," laughed her Mother. "But I won't be late. Whoever comes _after__me_, is late."

Hermione smiled, plucking some stray crumbs off of her skirt.

"Oh look at you," chided her Mother, shaking her head. "That outfit is so old and wrinkly! And I don't think you even bathed last night, did you?"

"Um, no," frowned Hermione. "I mean, yes, I took a shower, but there's nothing wrong with my clothes. They're cleaned, and it was the first thing I picked out. Besides, I _always_ wore this before."

"Exactly," muttered her Mother. "_Always_."

Hermione scowled, and quickly left the room with her books before her Mother said anything else. There was still the faint smell of tea and burnt toast in the air. And to add on, their neighbor's dog had started barking in respond of the one down the road. It was enough to drive a person nuts, especially when doing something as important as reading.

The thing was, only her Mother and Father were the only people in the world she could trust, if not then, perhaps some of the teachers. No one at school would ever be _her _friend. Not Hermione Granger, the girl with the weird name. The girl with the big hair. The know-it-all. She remembered an incident years ago, when she was playing outside on the playground. There was a pole someone could go down, and she had wanted to try it. She was just waiting for a girl her age who was in front of her.

The girl was obviously scared, Hermione could see that. So she tried helping. She told the girl how to do it, but before she knew it the girl was glaring at her, saying that she didn't need miss 'bossy pants' telling her what to do. Then she jumped down and ran down the grassy slope while Hermione first stood there, dumbfounded. But then she felt an unknown anger awaken inside of her, rising, clenching her stomach in a tight fist. And all of a sudden, the grass seemed to flatten and level down like the wind had turned into a thousand pounds, and the girl went tumbling into a muddy puddle.

Out of some sympathy, Hermione didn't laugh. She knew what it felt like to be embarrassed.

But that was only one of the weird things that happened around her. They just popped out of no where. Some people caught on and avoided her until they left altogether. Even her parents noticed weird things happen around her. Strangely enough, it made her feel special. Only a little bit. Because who would want to be her?

Hermione continued between reading, and being lost in her thoughts. The sun started hiding behind the gray clouds, and a gloomy Monday started to pick up. Before she knew it, her Mother was calling her from her seat on the couch with keys around her wrist. She held them up, dangling them in a tune.

"Already?" asked Hermione, blinking her eyes. "That was faster than I thought."

"Time goes by fast in the mornings," said her Mother. "It's noon that is as slow as a slug."

"And Daddy," piped Hermione before she could help herself.

"That too."

The laughed. Soon her Mother grabbed her purse, Hermione grabbed her bag, and then they were both out the door and into the car. It wasn't a long drive, it seemed like barely seconds had gone by before her Mother had already pulled into the parking lot. Hermione quickly shouldered on her jacket. If she was correct, it looked like it was going to rain later. Her mother seemed to be on the same trail of thought.

"Those clouds look angry to you?" asked her Mother, looking up into the sky with one hand shielding her eyes. Hermione shrugged in response. She didn't really mind if it did or not. "Well," her mother went on, "I hope you have a brilliant day, honey. Don't get any sweets for lunch, mind you."

"I won't," promised Hermione. "I can't disappoint a dentist, can I?"

"No. They're just not good for your teeth."

"I love you, Mum," said Hermione, hugging her Mother. "Go now, or you'll be late."

Her mother started backing away toward the car. "What did I say about that? I _can't _be late."

"Yes you can!" sighed Hermione shaking her head. She watched as her mother got inside the car and started slowly backing out. Then, with a tiny little wave, she zoomed out and down the aisle toward the next street. Hermione watched until she couldn't see the silver bumper anymore, and then set off toward the two front doors.

The place was crowded. Students of all ages walked down the halls, some timidly, some like they owned it. Hermione shuffled closer to the wall, trying to avoid the massive wave of kids surrounding her like groups of blue fish. She rounded the familiar first corner and down another hall. Papers and juice boxes littered the ground already, and Hermione fought the impulse to pick them up. She knew it was the janitors job, and even if she did do it, there was a chance she could be late for class.

That thought jeered her into action, and she quickly picked up her pace. On her way there, Hermione had to tell herself she was just being paranoid, but she had an inkling of suspicion that she was being watched. Her feet carried her to her classroom.

Rows of tables of four were everywhere, while some little drawings and most impressive scores were on the blackboard (mostly her's). The teacher, Miss. Smith, was seated at her desk, her mouth silently moving as she read something important. A slight frown crease was visible on her forehead, and she started twirling the pen in her long, skinny fingers. She suddenly looked up, as if she just realized her class was filing in.

"Hello everyone!" cheered Miss. Smith. "Hold on a minute, just finishing some last minute grading. I'll be passing out your quiz scores at the end of class, and so far they look great. I'm really impressed. Anyway, for those of you joining us, I want you all to be seated and to read the board in the back of the room, please."

Hermione was already looking at it. It said the same thing as usual; to take out some paper and pencils, school books, and highlighters. There was a shuffle of noise as everyone did so. Then, the teacher stood up and started talking. Hermione listened with rapt attention, not missing any one word. She made sure to take notes, and highlight the ones Miss. Smith said would be on next Tuesday's test.

"Now class," said the teacher, clasping her hands together. "Would anyone like to tell me-"

Hermione's hand automatically shot up in the air.

A small smiled played on Miss. Smith's lips, and she went around her desk to sit down. "I didn't ask anything yet, Miss. Granger." Everyone laughed, turning around to smirk at her. "Hush, hush now, don't be rude!" Miss. Smith called. "Anyway, we don't have any more time for questions afterall. So, I'll quickly hand out your quiz results, and then you can go head off to... P.E? It is P.E, yes?"

"Yes, Miss. Smith," sang the entire class except for Hermione. She was hiding her reddened face behind one of her textbooks.

"Excellent!"

A quiet silence fell over the students as the teacher handed out the scores, some eagerly leaning forward like they had to use the lavatory. Hermione sat, stiffed back and eyes wide as the teacher approached. What if she failed? What if she got not only one answer wrong, but every single one of them? She sucked in her cheeks.

"Oh no oh no," she muttered. With her cold fingers, she reached for her paper. She scanned it quickly and saw check marks on the answers she got right. She turned it over.

"One-hundred and five percent!" gasped Hermione quietly.

There was a loud snort behind her followed by an eruption of whispers and giggles. Hermione quickly folded it into her bag and left the class as fast as she could. It was time for gym. She could have groaned right there and then- she hated it more than anything and she didn't think she'd _not_ like something that's having to do with school. But yet, she did. Especially when they did the teams. She was usually one of the last ones left, and it got tiring after a while.

"Hey Granger, if you fall in P.E at least your hair will break the fall!"

Hermione didn't have to turn around to see who it was, but she did out of instinct. In front of her was a tall, bulky girl that reminded her of the tree outside her room. The girl had logs for arms, poles for legs, and big meaty hands that looked like they could easily crush a head if someone was unluckily enough to get it stuck between them. Her hair was like spaghetti, all long and stringy, and she owned a pair of narrowed, pudgy eyes. It was Lin Taylor.

"Whatever," muttered Hermione, taking larger steps.

"What did you get on the quiz?"

"Like you don't know," she snapped.

Lin smiled and that infuriated Hermione more. "What don't I know?"

"You know what."

"What?"

Her friends exploded into laughter. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"See you," said Lin, stalking past while sticking out her tongue. "We're running today!"

Hermione stopped. "In P.E?"

"Duh!"

She didn't think things would get worse after hearing _that, _but it did. She fell down several times while running, one of the reasons being Lin who tripped her from behind. She immediately told the teacher, and Lin promptly denied it saying that it was an accident, so Mr. Grayson just left the sore subject alone, while she bandaged her sore cut on her leg. She was miserable by the time they trudged back up to school.

The day didn't get better after that. By the time she went back to class, she didn't feel like answering any questions, which made the teacher concerned. Then she was almost tripped _again _at lunch, like she hadn't fallen enough already. And not long after that, she was kicked out of the library because some students were doing presentations inside there, so she had to go back to her class where Lin sat behind her, nudging her chair the whole time.

It was just great.

As the bell rung, she was already half way out the door. She could feel Lin and her most likely 'fake' friends following her all the way down the hall. Couldn't they ever give her a break? She sighed loudly.

"What's up Granger?" asked Lin's best friend, Marcie. "Was that a sigh or are you having difficulty breathing?"

"Maybe we should get the Nurse?" chuckled Lin.

"Or a mental hospital."

Hermione ignored them.

"Cat got her tongue, you think?"

"Must be a furball stuck in her throat."

Lin scoffed, throwing a long arm over Hermione's shoulder. Hermione squirmed, feeling her eyes sting with unshed tears. How did she ever deserve this, she wondered, as Lin started speaking again; "More like a_ hair_ball from her furry big head. But I _mustn't _say that, 'cause my mum taught me manners."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Unlike a certain barbarian over here..."

They laughed like it was the first joke ever heard.

"Leave me alone," cried Hermione, jerking her arm away from Lin and marching away. "Grow up, and just leave me alone!"

She could hear "oohs" and "ahhs" behind her as she ran.

Hermione went home, feeling more exhausted than usual. By the time she entered through the front door, she stumbled to her room and took out her homework. It seemed more complicated than before.

She sometimes wished that something _good_ would happen to her. Not really good, but something to make life more easier. Sure she had both lovely parents, and she was always at the top of her class, but she was sick of all the teasing and hurtful comments. She didn't like how she seemed to have everything, when suddenly it turned into nothing. She didn't even have a friend.

How come they all hated her? She _knew _she could be bossy, and yes, she can act like she was smarter than others. But that's all she has, really; her head, her feelings, her beliefs.

But it seemed it didn't matter in the real world.

She certainly didn't.

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Please read and review!

And I wasn't so sure if it was okay to use bold for the chapter, so if it's not, please tell me.


	2. A Very Strict Visitor

**This might seem like it's a little rushed and awkward writing, but I didn't really know how to write this scene. And if you thought Hermione was out of character, just wait for this Professor McGonagall haha.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any writing you recognize from the books, J.K Rowling does.**

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Chapter Two

_A Very Strict Visitor_

They were seated around the dinner table, chatting quietly away as they waited for the meal to be ready. Her mother had just shared her day at work, mentioning about a lady named Carol Lee, who came in with the yellowest teeth she had ever seen. ("It was quite a sight," breathed her Mother.) And her Father just laughed, ("You should have seen my teeth as a child after Halloween. Anyway..."), before telling about his day.

"...And then he bit me!" finished her Father, shaking his head exasperatedly before continuing. "He actually bit me! You would never think something like that would hurt _so _much, but let me tell you, it did."

"Well," started her Mother, "things like that happen. But Hermione dear, you've been oddly quiet. Is everything all right? Did you get your quiz back?"

"Oho!" laughed her Father. "I reckon she aced that no problem."

Despite what she was feeling earlier, Hermione couldn't help but smile. "I believe it was the highest in the class."

"Oh, honey!"

"One-hundred and five percent."

"You'll do good on the tests then," nodded her Mother.

Hermione nodded too. "I already started studying, just to make sure." She was back to feeling like her old self. Getting excited over tests was just the thing she'd do. "I never once failed a test before, so I'm hoping this won't be the first time. I already rewrote my notes just to help myself memorize it!"

"That's wonderful," said her Mother standing up. "Hold on, the chicken's ready. David, can you get the bowl of peas?"

"Eh? Oh, yeah, sure."

Silence fell as they all settled down to eat, and Hermione patiently dug into her roasted potatoes. Sometimes she would look around and lean sideways to look at the door. Was she imagining things, or could she hear something? She glanced at her parents who were both merrily tucking into the steamed chicken. Should she tell them?

She continued chewing, but it soon felt like chalk. She had an odd feeling in her stomach; it felt like what she feels every time before a test or after one. Something was wrong, she could tell, but she didn't know what. That was the question- what? Why was she so nervous? She opened her mouth to talk, but just as quickly closed it. She leaned farther off her chair.

"Er, sweetie, everything okay...?" stared her Father. "Uh, Jane, what's Hermione doing?"

"Nothing!" mumbled Hermione. "I just thought I heard something, that's all. Don't worry."

"What-?" started her Mother, but all of a sudden there was a loud, sharp sound at the door. Hermione's fingers tingled at the noise and ice seemed to slide down her back. It was like nails on a chalkboard. She and her parents winced.

Her father stood silently and stepped toward the door, opening it a crack. "Hello?" he called uncertainly. "Hello? Anyone there? Hello...? Oh! Oh, it's just a cat, oh poor thing looks lost. Jane, come here, see if there's any collar or something, I mean, blimey..."

They all crowded around, but just as her Mother reached for the tabby cat, it reared back and meowed loudly.

That's when something magical happened.

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes at first, she thought she might faint of shock. But there, now standing in front of her, was a stern looking woman with black hair pulled up in a tight bun and an odd looking emerald cloak. She didn't know how it happened, but she watched as the cat grew and grew, the fur disappearing slowly, and the paws turning into hands. Real human hands.

What just happened?

Her mouth continued to hang open, and she quickly shut it. Her mother was gaping like a fish out of water, and her father's face was as pale as ice. No words could be described of the scene they just witnessed.

"Hello," said the woman briskly, stepping forward into the house and closing the door behind her with a snap. "I apologize, I know this must've come as a huge shock. I just needed to convince you, and i knew it'd help."

"W-what?" gasped Hermione's mother. "Pardon me, but who just are you exactly?"

"Ah, well," the woman breathed deeply through her nostrils as she prepared for what looked like a speech. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I teach the post Transfiguration. Before you say anything, I'm going to cut to the point. Your daughter, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, is accepted to come learn at the school of magic. I decided to do this in person then explain in a letter, and I understand if you need time to adjust to what you've heard. But you, Miss Granger, are indeed magical."

Hermione could only think of what she had thought some moments ago.

What just happened?

"She's... magical..." stared her stunned mother. "What..."

"I know this is comes as a shock-"

"A shock?" Her father suddenly laughed, clutching his sides. "Listen, ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I don't understand what kind of... joke, or whatever you're playing, but I need you to please kindly leave."

Was it Hermione's imagination, or did she see the woman's nostrils get larger?

"I'm certainly not going anywhere, and I'd think you'd have more sense as to consider what I was saying after you saw me transform before your eyes!" The woman frowned. "Now, I don't mean to lose my temper but..."

"I believe you."

Hermione would never have thought her mother would say those words if she didn't see her mouth move. She felt like she was in a dream; she probably just fell asleep while doing her homework. Yeah, that seemed reasonable enough. It was the only explanation, anyway.

The woman fixed her eyes beadily over at her mother.

"I believe you," she repeated. "I do. I always thought there was something like this- this magic! And it explains so much, so many strange, mysterious things that happen around here... It's Hermione that does it, isn't it? Because you said, you said that she... that she, well..."

"Hermione is indeed a Witch."

"Oh come _on!" _said her Father, his voice raising slightly. "Jane, listen to yourself! Magic? Preposterous if you ask me."

"And, pray tell me, why?" sniffed the woman.

"Because it just can't be real! Everyone knows that. And Hermione being a... a witch? Excuse me in saying, but that's insulting! What, is she going to turn green and grow some warts now?"

"You Muggles," sighed the woman, as if she heard it all before. "The things you think, the things you do... now if anything, _that's _insulting. To think a witch is to think of some monster? Really!"

"Listen," interrupted Hermione's Mother, "this is all going so fast... too fast. I'd be pleased if you can explain..."

"Right," said the woman. "As I have previously stated, I am Professor McGonagall, and I teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, before I dwell in on information, I have a letter for Miss Granger... here." She took out a thick envelope from inside her coat and handed it delicately over to Hermione. She could only just stare at it. It had her address and everything on it, even the room she was in. Her head felt dizzy, like how she felt whenever her head submerged underwater and she had to hold her breath.

In disbelief, she shook the letter open and read;

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss. Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September first. We wait your owl by no later than July thirty-first.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress_

"There's more," explained Professor McGonagall, pointing to another piece of parchment. "That's the list of required items you will need shall you be going."

Hermione didn't say anything. She pulled out the second parchment.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winder cloak (back, silver fastenings)

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The standard book of spells (Grade 1)_by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Draughts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beats and Where to Find them_ by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"I'm not quite sure what to think," said Hermione honestly after reading it.

"There's no question about it," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "How else am I able to turn into a cat?"

"Well..." Hermione hesitated. She did see this woman transform, she saw it with her own wide eyes. But it didn't make sense! She had never once considered magic being real- it was just an unspoken agreement around the world that it's a load of tosh. "Maybe it was just a trick or something. Like a magician!"

Professor McGonagall wrinkled her nose.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you," said Hermione quickly. "But, if it's true, how came I'm one? How can _I _possibly be a- a witch?"

"May I take a seat?" asked Professor McGonagall, but she had already took one before anyone could say anything. "Now, some children are born into families with no magical abilities what-so-ever-" she held up a hand for quiet as Hermione's father opened his mouth. "Please, let me talk, then I can answer anything you wish to ask. The term is 'muggleborn'. There are other terms for those who have both magical parents, or only one, but I won't get into that just yet."

Her father couldn't help himself. "But what _is _that word muggle. You said it before, right?"

"Indeed I did. In case it wasn't obvious, Muggle is a term we use as to identify non-magic humans."

"I just don't get it."

"No," frowned the Professor McGonagall sternly. "I can see you chose not too."

There was a heavy silence.

"So, this Hogwarts," started her Mother. "This school. They teach magic there, then?"

"Yes."

"And is it like a, uh, regular school...?"

"Not quite," answered Professor McGonagall, an eyebrow raised. "It _is _a school for magic, not muggle learning. If Miss. Granger were to go, she will start term on September first, and we have dormitories for which house she will be... determined... in."

Her father scratched his head. He was looking unsure. "Which house?"

Professor McGonagall's other eyebrow raised. "Certainly. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Though, it's not up to me for which one she'll go in. We have a sorting at the start of term feast."

"I don't understand this."

"Understandable."

Silence stretched again. Professor McGonagall stood up, a pouch in her hand. "Now, before I add anymore, will Miss. Granger be attending or not?"

"I don't think so-"

"I believe she will-"

"I am."

They all turned to look at her. Hermione straightened. "I want to go. If it's real, that is. But I don't doubt that anymore- I mean, not after everything..." She took a breath. "Mum? Dad? Can I please go?"

Her father shuffled his feet. "Well, sweetie-"

"Listen. I didn't believe it at first. I didn't _want _to believe it. But, I always sort of knew that- that I was different, don't you understand? You know it too. This will be the first time I won't be an... outsider. I guess, maybe that's why I never fitted in. Everyone thought I was a, well, freak!"

Her Mother had tears in her eyes. "Oh, Hermione... You never said anything."

"I didn't have to, you already knew."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "I don't mean to interrupt. However, in this pouch is, in which we call, galleons. It is Wizarding money. We do not accept muggle money, and you will need these to get your belongings. I also have a map for you, it will tell you where you need to go."

Hermione frowned. "Go where?"

"To Diagon Ally. It's a place filled with shops- you will find everything on your list efficiently, I expect. But right now, I must be heading off, you aren't the only ones I'm doing today..."

"So that's just it, is it?" demanded her Father. "You tell us our daughter is a witch or something, and now you're telling us to go to some place diagonally after you go off?"

Her Mother shot a glare at him. "David," she warned. "Please, calm yourself."

"I can't believe you're so ready to accept this nonsense!"

"How much more do you want? She's explained enough."

"Not for me!"

"Oh honestly..." Hermione shook her head. "Mum, dad, stop. I want to go!" She turned to look at Professor McGonagall. "Where was this map thing?"

"That reminds me," said Professor McGonagall. "You will be needing your ticket to aboard the Hogwarts Express. It's on Platform nine-and-three quarters. Now before you pester me Mr. Granger, I will tell you how to get onto the platform. Remember this; all you have to do is go straight into the wall between platforms nine and ten. You will know when you get there.

But really, I must be going now. I have a schedule, you know."

She headed toward the door.

"Goodbye, Miss. Granger." She gave a small smile. "I hope to be seeing you in my class."

Then she was gone.

Hermione slowly sunk to the floor, her brain fuzzy and her hands shaking. She was slightly stunned, but yet happiness was spreading through her like a warm glow of a candle. It spread like a wild-fire until every inch of her felt like she had just slipped into a hot bath. Everything seemed much more peaceful, much more beautiful. Her eyes found her parents.

Her mother had a hand on her heart, and her brown eyes were still locked on the closed door. She looked as shock as she felt. Light hair fell limply in front of her face, and next to her was her Father, who just stood there unmoving, with an odd expression on his closed off face. Only one thing was moving, and it was his mouth, which was opening and closing soundlessly.

She turned and looked at her hands. Magic? She still felt like she couldn't understand. What did Professor McGonagall mean by her having magic? Are spells going to shoot out of her hands? Will she really look like a green hag, like her father said before? Her palms jumped to her face. It still felt normal. Hermione shook her head. Everything went by too fast. Weren't they just having dinner moments ago? How come it seemed like its been hours then?

Though, one thing she knew, she really wanted to go. A school for magic! She could go there and learn about everything, and she could meet friends who're just like her. She could finally belong. She wouldn't have to see Lin and her buddies anymore- they would never tease her again. And in the end, it'd be her, Hermione Granger, who was the last one laughing.

Unless Lin was somehow a Witch too. Hermione nearly shuddered at the thought, even though she doubted it. It wouldn't be possible. Well, a lot of things that seemed impossible only an hour ago, now seemed... different. Really different. Hermione didn't think she could look at things the same anymore. Especially cats.

"You want to go, then?"

Hermione looked up, surprised to see her Father looking directly into her eyes. She nodded.

"Then, I suppose we should go to this place diagonally?"

"Diagon Ally, Dad."

"Isn't that what I just said?"

She couldn't help but smile.

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	3. Some Place Called Diagon Alley

**Sorry if this seems a little boring and either too slow or fast paced. And short.**

**Disclaimer- I don't own The Harry Potter series or anything you recognize, J.K Rowling does.**

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Chapter Three

_Some Place Called Diagon Alley_

The bright sun gleamed in her face, almost like it was reflecting her mood. She used one hand to cover her eyes and the other to clutch a clump of parchment. The sound of the car engine vibrated in her ears, as well as her Mother's constant tapping. Her stomach gave a pleasurable squirm. She had spent all month, twisting and turning in her bed, thinking. Sometimes she felt like she was dreaming, even though she knew perfectly well that she was indeed awake. But, who wouldn't? It _did _feel like this was all just happening inside her head, but how would that explain her parents understood too? Hermione frowned. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure they understood at all. She wasn't sure she did, anyway.

They spent that morning driving and driving, Hermione reading off a piece of parchment to her Father that Professor McGonagall had given her. It was like time had slowed down just to irritate her. _Well, it certainly is testing my patients, _sighed Hermione in her head. If only they were there now. If they were in a Witch's and Wizard's world. Her world. Because she was magical._  
_

She, Hermione Granger, was magical.

A smile spread across her lips, and she had to use all her energy as to not squeal. It was still hard to believe she was a witch, especially toward her Father, but it really did make sense whenever she thought about it. All of her childhood was surrounded with unexplained events that occurred near her, and it was a relief to know why. Because she was magical.

Because she, Hermione Granger was a witch.

_Twelve, _thought Hermione. That was the twelfth time in only an hour that she said that she was a witch. At least, in her head. But she didn't care; she couldn't help but not think about her new life. Like, would the people all be wearing those cloaks too? And, would some look different, (hopefully with no warts and green skin)? What about this school? What _is _there to learn?

It felt weird going back to her well, now old, school where there was ordinary Ms. Smith, ordinary Lin Taylor, and ordinary tests that had nothing to do with spells or brooms. She spent the last month quiet and twitchy, not even raising her hand to math problems. Her teachers, as well as everyone else, were in disbelief. Miss Hermione Jean Granger stopped participating and, yes, showing off. _How odd._

But of course, they didn't know what odd really was. At least, not the odd that she is experiencing.

They couldn't possibly begin to comprehend that she, Hermione Granger, was magical.

That she was a witch.

"Thirteen," whispered Hermione, gripping the head rest in front of her.

Her Father tiredly looked around. "Hmm?"

"Nevermind..."

She turned her head to look out the window. Big and white clouds rolled lazily across the never ending sky. Brown and green, mushed together blearily crossed her vision as they zipped by quickly. Twisting around to look back, they seemed to slow down.

After that, everything seemed to go by in a haze.

Maybe the sun was getting to her.

* * *

"Is this it?" breathed Hermione as they quickened their pace toward the small, dingy pub. It had taken them quite the while to find it- it was almost like it was never there- it especially wasn't the first time they checked. In fact, Hermione had an inkling feeling that no one else but them could see it. All the people never once glanced toward it, they kept their eyes locked on the many shops and restaurants this place had to offer.

Her mother was looking so close to a piece of parchment that her nose rubbed against it. "Uh, yes, I think so..." she stared quizzically at her husband. "What do you think? I mean, this pub looks nothing like... like I thought it would be. Where's all the, er, magic?" She had whispered the last word.

"Maybe it's some disguise," suggested Hermione, shrugging.

Her father pressed his palms to his eyes. "You know, I don't understand why that woman couldn't have just shown us everything herself, or perhaps do it herself. As she mentioned several times, we're these Muddles or something, so how could she possibly think that we would know an-"

"Oh David, not _this _again."

They all fell silent as Hermione lead the way up to the door. She wondered briefly if they should know, but before she could decide, her Father had already pushed it open and was walking through. Hermione and her Mother followed more uncertainly.

Hermione's eyes had to take a moment to adjust. The brightness outside left as the doors closed behind her, leaving a dark and damp feeling inside the shabby place. There were two old men sitting in the corner, one wearing an old black hat while smoking from a long pipe. There was also a short woman with the weirdest outfit Hermione had ever seen, talking to a bald bartender, while drinking a glass of sherry.

"This is an interesting place," commented Hermione's Mother lightly.

"Anythin' to drink?" asked the bartender, waving a glass.

The three of them shook their heads simultaneously.

"That won't be nessacary," said her Mother. "But we're looking for Diago-"

"That way," pointed the short woman, nodding her head toward the small, walled courtyard that was through the pub.

"Oh! Thanks."

The woman caught Hermione's eye and smiled, before turning back to the bartender.

Her Father led the way, and Hermione couldn't help but be confused. There was a small family up ahead, standing in front of a brick wall and seemed to be tapping something by a trashcan. Was this Diagon Alley? She glanced nervously around. Was her Father perhaps correct about it not being real? Or is it supposed to be hidden?

She was just about to voice her questions when she saw something.

The brick wall had started to tremble and quiver as if something huge was stomping on the ground. And then, as she watched, a small hole appeared, and it grew and grew and grew until finally it turned into a rather big archway that lead into a twisted and curved street with bunch of chatty folks on it.

"Oh my lord," whispered her Father. "Holy moley."

In some dream-like state, they almost glided toward the brick wall as if they were ghosts. Hermione's brain had for once in her life, gone slack.

She was in Diagon Alley.

The brick wall closed behind them, and Hermione was looking in all directions so fast that her neck was starting to hurt. They walked by a shop with these cauldrons outside it, gleaming like gold. The sign overhead said, _Cauldrons- All Sizes- Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver- Self-Stirring- Collapsible.  
_

"Should we go in, then?" asked her Mother nervously. "I'm not sure what to do."

"I suppose," answered her Father. "Why not?"

And so they did. It was like an army of cauldrons inside that place, Hermione felt like she was overwhelmed. She took out her list and scanned it, even though she already memorized it. "We need pewter, standard size two."

"Got it right here," said a middle-aged man with a bushy mustache. "Here you go, that'll be fifteen galleons..."

It took a while for Hermione to understand what that meant, but they did it in the end.

After that, they went to shop after shop. One shop, called _Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, _was where she got her new set of school robes, and she was so excited to wear them she accidentally tripped while getting it fitted and tore a small hole by her ankle. Madam Malkin was very disgruntled, and decided it best if she started over.

The next place they went was the Apothecary, which gave off a very bad odor of rotten eggs. However, she was wonderfully amazed at everything in there; there were bright powders lined on the walls, as well as feathers, jars of different herbs, and these weird claws hanging from the ceiling. On the way out with her things, she almost screamed as she almost stumbled into a big tub filled with beetle eyes.

"That was fascinating," said her Mother, looking back longingly. "I kind of wish it was me going off to..." she trailed off.

"It was interesting," admitted her Father. "But come on, what about that store over there? Flourish and Blotts? Sounds like some cleaning supply store."

It turns out that _Flourish and Blotts_ is a book shop. It also turns out that this had to be Hermione's favorite place in the world. Books, stacked everywhere, some even brushing against the ceiling it was so high up. Books of all different sizes and colors came in and out of her view, some bound in leather and some covered in silk. There were also confusing symbol like words on some of them, while others had nothing on them at all. Hermione could live her life in there and still be content forever. It took a while for her parents to get her out, only after getting a few extra books like _Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, _and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. _

She didn't want to miss out on anything, and she wanted to find out more about this new world she belonged in. Everything seemed so much nicer. Well, except maybe for the Flourish and Blotts owner, he seemed a little rude Hermione thought. Or maybe just distracted.

"I need... these books-" she had said, but before she could continue the man waved his hand impatiently and turned away.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I got them here-"

"Oh thanks-"

"Yeah, yeah I know, mhmm.."

That was a little how it went.

Now, she and her parents made their way down to a narrow shop with rusty golden letters on the door that said, _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. _In the foggy, old window, there was a long wand laying on a faint, purple cushion. They stepped inside, and a small jingle of a bell echoed in the back of the tiny place.

Hermione looked around neverously, her eyes wandering toward piles of thousands of wands towering up toward the ceiling in rectangular boxes. She was vaguely aware of some tingle like sensation about the room.

There was a noise behind them, and Hermione nearly yelped. Turning around, there was an old man with pale eyes that shone like two orbs. He approached them slowly, his silvery eyes never leaving their faces.

"Ah, hello," greeted, who Hermione assumed to be, Ollivander.

"Hi there," said Hermione's Mother timidly. "Mr. Ollivander, yes?"

"That is correct," said Mr. Ollivander softly. "It's safe to assume I've never met you before."

"No, sir, we just found out recently..." Hermione trailed off awkwardly.

"Hmm. Yes, of course. Muggle-born, I think? Your name is-?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Nice to meet you, Miss. Granger. Nice, indeed..."

Hermione wasn't sure what to think of Mr. Ollivander. She thought he was rather creepy- or, for better word, mysterious.

"If you'll come here, Miss. Granger, I'd like to measure you, but first, which one is your wand arm?"

"My- wait, what?" Hermione stared at him, blinking several times. "Do you mean the one I write with?"

Mr. Ollivander nodded. "Yes, the one you use."

"My right, then?"

He gave a slight nod, before opening his mouth with an air of someone whose said it many times before.

"Every wand here at Ollivanders has a core of one powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, heartstrings of dragons, and phoenix tail feathers, Miss. Granger. No two dragon, phoenix or unicorn is indeed the same, that is why no two wands are ever the same. As well of course, it's the wand the chooses the witch or wizard, you would never get such a good result with another's."

Hermione, however barely listened. She was to surprised at seeing the tape measure her arm by itself.

"How-?" she started to ask, but Mr. Ollivander had already grabbed the measurer and laid it on a nearby table.

"Why don't we try seeing the wands?" murmured Mr. Ollivander, grabbing a few boxes. "Here, maple and unicorn tail, nine inches, nice and supple. Give it a little wave."

She took it gently between her fingers and held it, feeling the smooth wood in her palm.

"Give it a wave," repeated Mr. Ollivander, and she did.

"No, no," said Mr. Ollivander, and he grabbed it from her before shoving another in her hand. "Ebony and dragon heartstring, nice and flexible..."

It was once more taken out of her hand.

"Mr. Ollivander, " said her Mother suddenly. "How do you which wand is for her?"

"Mrs. Granger, as I've said before, it's the wand that chooses the witch or wizard. When it does, we will know."

And that's how it happened.

After several more times of foolish wand waving, Mr. Ollivander passed her another one.

"Ten and three-quarters, vine wood and dragon heartstring. Give it a try..."

Instant warmth passed through her fingers as she took it, and giving it a wave, a stream sparks flew out of the end like paint splattering. Hermione laughed, and suprisingly, so did Mr. Ollivander who clapped, and said, "Oh, very good, very good! That will be seven Galleons, oh very well indeed."

Hermione's Father quickly paid and they got out of there.

They headed back up the cobbled street, and Hermione felt rather light headed. She looked around, her eyes wide; how come everything seemed so much more different than before she came in here?

The sun was starting to set. The air was cooler than before, and it blasted against her face like a breath of freshness. She drank it in.

"Do you want to get something to eat, honey?" asked her Father, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not hungry," said Hermione honestly.

"Too excited?"

She shrugged. She was excited, very much so. But, the nervousness clung to her like smoke. She had many questions, many of them that would most likely go unanswered for the rest of her life. Is this what she really wanted? To leave her parents for most of the year and go off to learn magic in a world she hardly knows?

_But think of all that I would know, _thought Hermione to herself_. Of all that I could do._

They were back in the car now, and she closed her eyes, resting her head against the cold window.

In her head, she screamed.

She, Hermione Granger, was magical.

She, Hermione Granger, was a witch.

"Fourteen."

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**Please read and review! Pretty please! Do it for the house-elves!**


	4. Aboard the Train

**Hi, I finally wrote this. It's really choppy and sloppy, and I apologize for any mistakes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Some quotes and everything you recognize from J.K Rowling belong to her.**

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_Chapter Four_

_Aboard the Train_

Hermione faced the wall, dumbstruck.

"Are you _sure _I'm supposed to go through this?" she asked slowly, twisting her head to look around at her parents. Her white knuckles clamped onto her cart filled with her belongings and she bit her lip nervously. "Are you really sure? What if it doesn't work?"

Her Mother smiled. "It will."

"I'm not sure if it will let you in, though." Hermione stared glumly at her parents. "I'm going to miss you."

"We'll miss you too, honey," said her Father, giving her a warm hug. "We'll watch you go from here."

"I'll see you soon, though?" she asked hopefully. "For Christmas?"

"Yes," agreed her Mother. "Now hurry up, you're going to be late!"

That was enough for her. Hesitating slightly, she approached the wall at a steady pace, her eyes scrunched up for impact if it didn't let her through. It was when the cart was mere inches from it, did she let her eyes fall shut and kept walking. She didn't stop moving, but she was waiting, waiting for something... and then she heard it.

Opening her eyes, she saw a long scarlet steam engine near a platform with a sign overhead that said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Behind her the words _Platform Nine and Three-quarters _on an archway. A surge of happiness flooded over her. She was really going.

Hermione went and looked for any empty compartment, but she couldn't help but stare at all the people. She assumed most of them were magical, but she found it odd how normal they looked, even compared to her. While she was already wearing her school uniform, everyone else was dressed in regular clothing that the kids at her school wore. A hint of nervousness creeped up her spine. Should she have not changed?

As she looked through a door, she saw only a small, plump boy with a round face sitting in one of the seats, looking lost. She decided to try and join him- she might even make her first real friend! With that happy thought, she knocked on the door and without bothering to wait, she opened it too.

"Hello," she greeted. "You wouldn't mind if I sat here too, do you? I don't really know where else to go."

"Um, sure," muttered the boy uneasily, glancing up at her.

She peered closer. "Are you all right? Only, you don't look so good..."

The boy looked at her in distraught. "I'm not. See, I lost my toad, Trevor, and he was gift- I tried asking around, but no one has seen him! I kind of having a problem with losing my things... It wouldn't be the first time Trevor has gone missing, but this time it's too crowded to see anything."

"Oh." Hermione looked around busily. "Well, I'm sure you'll find him _somewhere, _but I can help you if you want. We can go down to different compartments and ask more people- maybe we'll get lucky. Anywho, what's you're name?"

"Um, Neville Longbottom," said none other than Neville Longbottom. "You-?"

"Hermione Granger. Well, it's nice to meet you Neville. Come on, let's go."

She lead him out of the room and outside to the aisle. She looked around before deciding to pick the closest compartment next to her, and pulled it open. "Excuse me, I'm sorry for interupting but-" She stopped when she realized no one was in there. Her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. She quickly closed the door.

"Oh, I-I thought someone was in there..."

Neville gave her a weak smile.

She decided to try another one a little way down. She slid it open with a squeak. Inside were two boys, one having red hair and his skin covered with freckles, and the other having messy black hair and green eyes framed behind rounded glasses. She raised her chin.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one-"

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said the redhead grumpily. She ignored him, her eyes on the wand that was in his hand. So, he probably already knew magic then, which he meant he maybe wasn't a muggleborn like her. There was a knot in her stomach. What if everyone was better than her?

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then," she said, wanting to know what he could do. She had read her magic books millions of times, but she didn't know if that was good enough. Maybe she should have gotten more books?

The boy stared at her a little taken aback. "Er, all right," he muttered, clearing his throat and waving his wand;

_"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,_

_turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"_

Hermione raised an eyebrow. The rat in his lap didn't do anything, but kept on sleeping. If she didn't know better, she would say that his pet was dead.

"Are you sure that's a _real_ spell?" she questioned. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magical, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean it's one of the best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard- I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough- I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She looked from one stunned face to another. She hadn't meant to talk so much or too fast, but she was really nervous. She was meeting kids just like her- she could finally fit and make friends. It was all she ever wanted.

"Ron Weasley," muttered the redhead boy.

"Harry Potter," said the other one, and she almost gasped. She knew that name!

"Are you really?" asked Hermione excitedly. "I know all about you, of course- I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

Harry looked at her with wide, glazed eyes. "Am I really?"

Hermione blinked at him, shocked. "Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," she said. "Do either of you knw which House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Anyway," she glanced at Neville, "we'd better go and look for Neville's toad."

She started backing away, before adding, "you two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And without saying another word, she took ahold of Neville and left.

There was a fuzzy feeling in her head, and she had a weird desire to start skipping. Did she actually just have a real conversation with someone her age? If she was back at her other school, she wouldn't dare talk so much. Especially to Lin Taylor. She had always thought it was better to just keep her head down and avoid eye contact, and hopefully no one would notice her.

But she needn't do that anymore.

"You look really happy," commented Neville.

Hermione didn't say anything, but slowly trudged up to the front of the train where the conductor was, snapping at everyone who jostled and bumped into her, running around the place.

"Excuse me," she said, "but do you know when we'll be arriving?"

"Almost there," was the answer. And as she didn't have anything else pointless to say, she turned back around.

"You know, I can't believe that was Harry Potter," said Neville. Of course, it just so happens that someone chose that time to butt in.

"Harry Potter?" asked a cool voice behind them, and they whipped around.

She immediately had a unsettling feeling in her stomach, and she tried not to glare. He had a pale face and blonde hair with an air of arrogance around him. The way he looked down at them disdainfully meant he thought they weren't worthy. All she could think of was a certain bully.

"Yes," she said easily. "You heard right. Why?"

She glanced at the two, large boys behind her. They reminded her of a certain bully too.

"I was hearing all down the train that a Harry Potter was here. Which compartment?"

"Why?"

"Which compartment?" snapped the boy.

She shot him a sharp look. "Right in front of you," she sniffed. "Come along Neville, we should be doing something." She marched off, still dragging a silent Neville. "He seemed like a rude boy."

"I-I think that was a Malfoy."

"A Malfoy?" She stared at him in confusion. "What's that?"

"No, his name. I haven't heard many good things about his family..." Neville shrugged awkwardly. "But it really doesn't matter."

."Well, I'm not sure if I liked him," she said. "Did you see the way he was staring at us as if we were filthy? I mean, honestly, it's not like he _knew_ us, of course, seeing as we've never meant. I wonder why he wants to see Harry."

"Er-" said Neville. "I'm guessing it's because it's the same reason why everyone else wants to- he's famous."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Poor Harry, I'm not sure if he likes attention. He seemed embarrassed when I told him about all the books he's in... Speaking of books, did you read _Hogwarts: A History-?"_

_"No-"_

"-because it was ever so fascinating, I even tried to make my Mum read it. I never knew so many things, and it was just so-"

"Er-"

"-brilliant, you know? I've already read it like _ten_ times-"

"Do you hear that-?"

"-if you don't have it, maybe I can lend it to you? Though, I heard Hogwarts has a library, so-"

"Listen!"

Hermione stopped rambling and they both fell silent. She could hear shouts coming from the compartment where she was in before, and she quickly dashed over just in time to see the pale boy and his large friends run away. She stopped in front of the door and glared in. Did they really have to make such a racket? How immature.

"What has been going on?" she demanded, her eyes falling over the ground littered with sweets, and to where Ron was picking up his rat.

"I think he's been knocked out," she heard him say. "No- I don't believe it- he's going back to sleep!

Hermione repressed a snort with difficulty. That rat seemed quite useless, if you asked her.

Before she could say or do anything, Ron asked Harry something about Malfoy, who then proceeded to tell a story.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to out side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He abruptly turned toward her and added rudely, "can we help you with something?"

Hermione felt a rush of anger and dislike, but chose to ignore his tone. "You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!" _Idiots, _she added silently.

Ron scowled at her. "Scabbers has been fighting, not us. Do you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right- I only came in here because people outside are behaving childishly, racing up and down the corridors," she huffed. She looked pointedly at him. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Not wanting to stick around, she turned around and left.

"You should get changed," she reminded Neville.

"Oh- oh yeah!"

She gave a small smile and went to the empty compartment and sat down. The second she did, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

And it ended.

There was nothing else to do but stare out the window. She didn't know how she should be feeling, but an icy numbness had spreaded in her. There was no going back now.

She was going to Hogwarts.

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